


I Wanna be Your Dog

by badcircuit



Series: Things that Never Happened [8]
Category: Australian Actor RPF
Genre: Barely puppy play, Blow Jobs, D/s lite, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fucking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, RFP AU, why am i like this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 22:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11022804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badcircuit/pseuds/badcircuit
Summary: Ben Mendelsohn RPF AU where Benny is just a dude who’s your kinky boyfriend, suddenly in the mood to play.





	I Wanna be Your Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a scene from the movie True Love and Chaos. If you're reading this, you probably know which one I'm talking about. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You've got dog fever.  You want one badly and you can't stop scrolling through Instagram, oh my god-ing over the endless stream of adorableness.  Your man is bored of seeing the dogs you show him but you do it anyway, hoping he'll fall in love with one and surprise you someday soon.

Instead he says, "Put that fucking phone down.  Come over here and be my little puppy dog."

"Umm, excuse you?", you snap, but when you look up from the screen, all you can do is stare.  He's unbuttoned his shirt and undone the first two buttons of his fly, just enough for you to see his dick fighting to break free from his boxer briefs.  Lounging in the chair across the room like a dissolute prince, he looks like all of the sin you're about to commit.     

The corners of his mouth turn up in a sly smile and he beckons with one finger.  "Come now.  Don't keep me waiting."

You shake your head but get up anyway.  Before you can take a step, he points at the floor, and even though you act reluctant about dropping down on all fours, you're getting wetter by the second.  Instead of slinking over there, you scamper over with exaggerated puppyish enthusiasm.  Kneeling at his feet, you smirk up at him and he can't help laughing.  "Should I wag my tail, too?"

"If you like but I'm more interested in other things that pups like to do."

You give him what you hope are good puppy eyes.  "Hump your leg?"

He clears his throat and rubs his bottom lip to hide a laugh.  "Try again."

You tilt your head to one side then the other because you love when dogs do that.  "Play fetch?"

With a long-suffering sigh, he shakes his head and picks up the newspaper he set aside.  "I should roll this up and spank you for being cheeky.  But you'd like that, wouldn't you?"  When you nod and wiggle like the eager pup you're pretending to be, he loses it, laughing until he starts to cough.

Coyly, you say, "Maybe I should drop the puppy act now.  I don't want it to get weird."  It's a lie, of course, but you can't resist a bit of teasing.

He looks amused; he knows and loves that weird is your default setting.  "As long as you give me what I want, you can do whatever you please."

He helps you up so that you can straddle him and buries his fingers in your hair to pull your face down for a kiss.  There's a moment before your lips meet, just a tiny pause, but time enough for you to feel impatient for his soft mouth and wicked tongue.  He does his very best to appear unaffected but there's no hiding the acceleration of his heartbeat beneath your hands or the hardness of his cock against your ass.  Then finally his lips are on yours and the way that he takes his time is both sweet and devastating.  He waits until your lips part on a sigh to slip his tongue inside and the way that he swirls it around yours turns your sighs to moans.  His mouth wanders all over your face, along your jaw, down your throat, but it never strays from your lips for long. 

"What're you doing?" he whispers, wrapping a firm arm around you—not to hold you still but to encourage you to keep up the slow shimmy of your hips.

Dazed from his kisses, you nuzzle against his neck, breathing in the faint smells of soap and cigarette smoke and beneath them, his own particular scent.  "I'm wagging my tail," you murmur dreamily.  "It kind of makes me wish I had one of those tail butt plug things."

He makes a sound that tells you he's picturing it.  "Show me where and I'll get you one."  He slides a hand down the back of your boxers to trace your ass crack.  "I had something in mind earlier, you know.  When you were down there on your knees."

"Mmmm," you say, sitting back enough to see his face, which gives nothing away.  "Don't tell me.  Let me figure it out."  You get him the rest of the way out of his shirt, skimming your hands over his freckled shoulders and smooth chest, his nipples stiff against your palms.  Ducking your head down, you catch one between your teeth and flick it with your tongue.  He sucks in a breath but otherwise says nothing.  You switch to sucking and get a little more appreciation in the form of a soft moan, a furrowed brow, and a lip bite.  "Was it something like this?"

He lets you carry on for a good while before answering, getting increasingly noisier, and if he bites his lip any harder, he'll draw blood.  At some point, his hands have shifted to the chair arms and you can tell by the tension in his body how hard he's gripping them.  Yet all he says is: "You're warm."

If you kiss him, he has to stop biting himself, so you do.  You soothe the indentation left behind by his teeth then suck on his lip until he tries to take the kiss over.  With a snicker, you retreat and revert back to being his pup—licking all of his tender spots, nipping him, even sniffing here and there, going lower and lower until you have to get back down on the floor. 

"You're getting warmer."  He spreads his thighs to make room for you between them and even hands you a pillow for your knees.  For a few minutes, you let him pet your hair and scratch your scalp and it's so good, it's nearly unbearable having to wait for his hands all over you.  To move things along, you lean forward and mouth him through his jeans.  His hand tightens in your hair and he holds you there, his eyes like blue fire as he stares down at you.  "Now you're getting hot."

"I think this means I'm burning up," you say, looking up at him pointedly while unbuttoning his jeans the rest of the way and palming his hard cock, the big reveal of this hot/cold game.  He's still got a fistful of your hair but he doesn't have to pull you any closer or tell you what to do.  He doesn't have to say anything but he does anyway because he knows how much you like his dirty talk.  There is nothing quite like hearing his running commentary when his voice is gone deep and rough with lust, his accent as thick as the smell of sex in the air.

"You love it, don't you?," he asks, petting your hair again and holding it out of the way so he has an unobstructed view. 

"Mmmmm."  It's all you can manage around a mouthful of dick.

"Show me."

Opening your eyes, you look up at him, pumping his cock slowly, your spit easing the way.  You start again with a kiss, right on his gleaming crown, then you drag your lips back and forth over the tip, until your lips are shiny with his arousal.  With a smile, you lick it off and then you lick him, one long swipe up the underside followed by a twirl around the head.       

"Take it all the way down," he says, sounding drunk.  And then when you do, "Such a good girl."

He's called you that so many times it should be old but you'll never get tired of hearing it.  With a desperate sound, you slip the crotch of your boxers to the side to touch yourself.  It's not difficult to enjoy this especially when he's watching like he can't get enough of seeing his slick cock sliding in and out of your mouth.

"Are you very wet for me?" he asks, touching his tongue to his top lip like he wants to taste you.  "Are you ready to get fucked, little pup?" 

"Yes please."  You give him one last suck before letting him go with a loud pop.  "See. I'm sitting up and begging." 

"Good girl," he says again, laughing and reaching for you.  "Up you go."

Once you've stripped out of your boxers and the old tank of his you hijacked, you're back in his lap again, easing down onto him, making you both gasp with pleasure.  Considering the theme, it's a little disappointing that he didn't bend you over and fuck you doggy style but this is nice too because you can see how much he likes what you're doing.  He's happy to let you set the pace and you keep it slow, rising almost off the way off of him before sinking back down. 

"Not to change species but you look like the cat that got the cream."

With a pervy grin, you say, "It's because I can't stop thinking about how you have something else that pups like."  You pause dramatically and he narrows his eyes and smacks your ass.  Draping your arms around his neck, you lean down until you're nose to nose.  "A big bone."

He chuckles, low and dirty.  "And you bury it so well."

You do, again and again, until you're both burning to come.  He's so helpful with his sloppy mouth on your tits and a finger on your clit. 

"I'm going to buy a collar and leash to go along with that tail you want."  He circles your throat with his thumb and forefinger, applying just the right amount of pressure so that you can imagine the collar buckled snuggly around your neck with him holding the leash.  "Next time, we'll go all out, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree, "yeah yeah yeah," your voice more breathy and higher pitched on each stroke. 

The way you're riding him makes him abandon the game.  The clever quips are gone and for a few minutes he doesn't say anything, just sucks in a sharp breath every time your ass hits his thighs.  "You're going to make me come," he warns, panting now, his hand unsteady on your clit.

"Yes," you say.  "Do it.  Don't worry about me."  You suck two of your fingers until they're dripping and take over so that he can focus on squeezing your bouncing ass with both hands and fucking you back.

"Oh God," he groans, his eyes on where your hand is moving furiously.  "Fuck."  His hands tighten on your butt, his whole body going rigid beneath you, his head falling back and his face screwing up like he just got hit by a live wire.  For a moment, you go still so that you can feel him pulsing inside you.  That's all it takes to push you straight over the edge and you're vaguely aware of him holding you steady while you momentarily lose your mind.      

As good as his kisses are they're even better when you're both basking in post-orgasmic bliss.  "Bloody hell," he pants when you're forced to come up for air.  "That got interesting," he says dryly and you both burst out laughing.  His smile—the one he's giving you now—combined with those freckles and blue eyes, make him look boyish and angelic, even when he's saying the rudest, filthiest things.  "So where can I buy one of those tails?"


End file.
